


Like Herding Cats

by Bam4Me



Series: Herding Cats, Knitting Hats [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 100 percent fluff, 2 percent gay, 8 percent cats, But not so much in this first fic there will be more with that later, But seriously this AU is 90 percent knitting, Developing Friendships, Fiber Arts, First of a series, Gen, James Bond Takes Care of Q, James needs a hug, Knitting, M/M, Neither Q or James know how friendships work, Oblivious Q, Pre-Slash, Q Has a Cat, Q needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: Working with double-ohs is like herding cats. Q might be the first quartermaster who can actually do it.





	Like Herding Cats

**Author's Note:**

> I... did not expect to end up writing fics for this fandom???? I just watched the movies so I could read a few fics I found????? And I didn't even like the movies all too much?????? But the fandom?????? Is top notch af?????? Niiiiiiiiice.
> 
> Now, this is the basic 'this person is obsessed with knitting' fic, and those are always aces, but for those of you who wonder: yes, I knit, I spin fiber, I dye yarn, I crochet, I do it all, I have an absolute O B S E S S I O N with yarn and fiber and all of that to the point where other than fandom it's really the only other hobby I have, I am just obsessed with yarn, so yeah, I know it all and all the stuff going on with it. So yeah, nice, accurate writing with this one. 
> 
> But more than that, James and Q are fucking idiots who don't know how a friend works so it's like that 'i have feelings for you' 'i have feelings for you too' 'the feeling was friendship, but neither of them had ever felt it before' scene, so yeah, prepare for awkward dorks who decide to make shit up as they go.
> 
> avengersnonsexualageplay.tumblr.com - you will see that's primarily a Marvel blog, but it's also gonna have a few things from London Spy, Kingsman, Bond fandom, DC comics, stuff like that

When you’re close to the double-ohs, it’s sort of inevitable that they’ll try to butt into your life in some way.

 

See, they were agents with a license to kill, and the know how to do it. It was _rare_ that people outside of MI6 weren’t wary of them in some way. Just last week, 003 was complaining that her girlfriend didn’t even _know_ what she did for a living and she was still wary to introduce her to her family.

 

Q and 003 had a long conversation over the idea that it might be homophobia, and it had left the two of them 1) knowing way too much about each other’s personal lives in a way that can only come with the third tumbler of whiskey, and 2) still unsure if 003’s girlfriend’s family was homophobic or if she had some other reason to keep her away.

 

Q sighed, shooing 0012 out of his office after the man left a worrisome amount of apples in a basket -like, a legit basket, from an orchard or something- on his desk, with a mumbled excuse about his neighbor going crazy with apple picking this season and pawning them off on people.

 

Peak schedule apple picking season was a month and a half ago. Q isn’t sure if he believes the man or not, but he’s willing to give into the lie if it is one, because he hasn’t made an apple pie in years and he has the strange and sudden craving for it.

 

Double-oh agents were a dangerous lot. If they didn’t like you, you were either likely to fall off a tall building, or to face being ignored entirely, as if your mere existence is as insignificant as a bug on the sidewalk.

 

If they liked you… they were like cats. Bringing you random gifts that they may or may not have killed themselves, food, like 0012 had just proven, because they all thought he didn’t eat enough -he didn’t, but at least he knows it, and tries to fix that when he can-, or in other cases, came to him, shifty, wary of being seen by medical, asking him to fix their scrapes for them because they trusted him with their health and safety.

 

The only double-oh he’s met so far that trusts medical with their life is 004, and that’s because he was hopelessly in love with one of the nurses there, who always pet his head when he got hurt, so he actually ended up there much more often than he should, if only so she could pet him like a favored cat.

 

Moneypenny liked to joke that they all had caregiver instincts, and Q set off every single one of them. Q would like for her to never speak again until she apologized with Chinese takeaway and stopped making jokes about his job description being ‘herding cats, with a surprisingly high success rate’.

 

It’s why he’s not even _phased_ when he gets a text on his personal mobile -which every single double-oh seemed to have the number to, though he’s given it to _none_ of them- from Bond, this fine Tuesday evening, when Bond was supposed to be home, sleeping off a fucked up shoulder after his last mission went wonky. He completed it, of course, but it didn’t stop it from getting a little fucked up towards the end.

 

**Your cats are really friendly, but they should be wearing collars. What if they get out? - Bond**

 

Q blinked at his phone for a moment, suddenly worried. What _if_ his cats got out? Oh, he’d never find them, and some asshole would get a hold of them and-

 

Wait, he’s half asleep from a double shift, that’s not right at all-

 

**They have tracking chips. - Q**

 

**Oh. Okay. What are their names? - Bond**

 

**The orange tabby is Peanut, and the his sister is Jasmine. They came already named. - Q**

 

The next text was a photo of Bond collapsed on the couch with both cats on his chest. Bond looked half awake, his left eye fully purple now that the bruising has had a chance to set in, and he was had one single hand on top of the back of the orange tabby, who, if Q knew him like he did, was likely purring so hard it vibrated. Peanut was an absolute cuddleslut.

 

Q needs some coffee.

 

**How is your shoulder? - Q**

 

**Better than before. Your couch made a surprisingly comfortable bed. - Bond**

 

Q needs a _large_ coffee. And yet, he’s still not surprised.

 

He has _three_ cats now. He hopes they’ll all get along.

 

He shook his head, sent back a text of affirmation, and got up to get another mug of coffee. He wasn’t sure how long Bond had been in his apartment, but it made more sense than most things did. Bond was wounded, of course he’d want to run and hide while he healed.

 

A cat. Such a cat.

 

“Q, are you okay?”

 

Q hummed, finally pulling the coffee pot off the warmer, and pouring into his mug until it was mostly full, and then enough heavy cream to make everyone with a lactose allergy cringe, before turning to look at Moneypenny, who was indeed, standing there with Chinese takeaway, and a slightly grossed out look on her face.

 

More fool them, more heavy cream for him. Unlike some people, he was truly gifted for dairy consumption without digestive issues, and he’s not even slightly sorry.

 

“I’m fine, why?”

 

She followed him back to his office with the takeaway bags, pulling them out so they could actually eat for once. “One of the minions said you’d been staring at the coffee pot for five minutes.”

 

Q cringed. He was getting close to needing a nap himself, but he promised himself he would actually go home tonight -mainly because his neighbor wasn’t going to be around to check on the cats, but he kept his resolve _firmly_ in place now that he knew Bond was there and therefore the kitties were just fine- and told himself he would go home after he finished his most recent coding that Bond had interrupted. He was _nearly_ done.

 

“Hmm, well, maybe if they would refill the darn pot after it’s gone empty, I wouldn’t have to wait.”

 

She slowly nodded, looking dubious about that. Q Branch had seven coffee makers going at all times.

 

“Ahh.”

 

Q just sighed -he’s been sighing so much, can’t you tell- and pulled his legs up under him in a move that made most people say he sat like a child, and resolved to get some sleep later. When he was finished with this project.

 

His resolve crumbled like a badly made gingerbread house when he got his next text from Bond, ten minutes after Moneypenny had left and he had gotten himself immersed into the code again. See, he didn’t like all these interruptions to his train of thought, he was _used_ to getting so obsessed with his work that hours -even the whole day sometimes- went by without him noticing until he realized how much he’d done. But all this interrupting… well, that what happens when you have cats, they eventually want some of your attention.

 

It’s why he got them in the first place. They made themselves known. It was harder to lose himself, to knock off days of carefully planned scheduling, to keep himself on a path that leads him to be an actual _productive_ member of society because he can be where he needs to be, when he needs to be there.

 

So far, his double-oh cats are actually proving to be louder than his real ones.

 

There was another photo text, this time of a dark wooden door.

 

The one door in the whole flat that he made an actual attempt to keep closed at all times. Mainly to keep out the cats, because they used to attack everything when they were little, and he’s not sure if they’ll attack it anyways now.

 

 **What’s in here? Sex dungeon?** **\- Bond**

 

Q let out a little sigh, starting to pack up his stuff so he could actually go home tonight. If he didn’t go home now, he would end up passing out on his cramped little couch and regretting it for a week.

 

Bond was making an honest attempt at communication with him, which meant he was as good as crawling in his lap and demanding pets.

 

Which, well, considering the man’s track record with honeypot missions, is something that he’s _likely_ actually done with partners before. Q isn’t sure how he feels about that. Jealousy? Possibly.

 

Not at the sex part, but at Bond acting like a cat towards anyone but him. God, sleep sounds so good right now.

 

He was about to text a reply, but the phone is all blurry right now, and he really shouldn’t be moving at all at the moment, but his bag was all packed and he wanted to get home, and he was going to have to take a taxi as is, because the very idea of having to navigate the tube while this half awake was a nightmare that might actually _give_ him nightmares, and he just couldn’t do that to himself-

 

He pressed the call button instead, sitting down at his desk again while he used his second mobile to order a taxi to the MI6 building. All the agents worth their salt used the same taxi service for those nights when walking or the tube is a nightmare to behold. It would be there in five minutes, so he should start moving.

 

“Q, my beloved quartermaster, what can I do for you right now?”

 

Q sighed, moving to stand up so he could walk and talk at the same time. “Okay, so hanging next to that door is a basket, open that up. There should be cat toys in there. Wait till they’re looking, and throw one. Then you can go in the room.”

 

Bond was quiet for a moment, making a thoughtful noise before doing as told. “Oh.”

 

Q grinned a little, stepping into the elevator with a few others, looking unconcerned with the way they watched him. “Yeah.”

 

Bond made another thoughtful noise. “Okay, that explains the mothball smell. Are you sure you should have all that stuff in here? It’s not gonna keep away cats if they get in.”

 

Q made a shrugging movement, tired enough to forget that Bond couldn’t see him. “Bond, mothballs are used to keep away actual moths, not cats. I keep the door closed because cats will attack anything, moving or not.”

 

The elevator opened up to the ground floor, and he left without a glance back to the interested looking agents in there, uncaring if anyone knew about his weird habits, or his late night talks with 007.

 

“Ahh. I… it’s a lot, you know? I mean, do you really _need_ all this?”

 

Q grinned as he finally got out into the cool damp air of the night. Oh god he didn’t even realize how _recycled_ the air in the basement was until he was out of it. “Shows how much you know. In the crafting world, there is no such thing as _too much_ fiber, at that point you just open your own store.”

 

Bond was making a funny little snickering noise while he -assuming Q knew him well enough, and he did- went through shelves and oversized plastic tubs of _years_ -at least a decade- of accumulated yarn and fiber, random drop spindles, a single spinning wheel, too many knitting projects to count -entire tubs of finished projects and even more of half finished ones he needed to continue- and even the random crochet project here and there.

 

“Wow, when you get the urge for a hobby, you really go all out with it, don’t you?”

 

Q got into the waiting taxi, giving them his address and sitting back again. “Yeah, listen, I’m not sure I can explain it all while half awake, but ask me again after I’ve slept some and I can info-dump on you until you never want to hear about yarn again.”

 

The voice that replied was smiling, Bond was _smiling_ at his weird obsession. “I grew up in the Scottish highlands, Q. I can’t wait to talk to you about it.”

 

The rest of the ride was quiet, with Bond gently muttering on the other side of the phone still pressed against Q’s ear, while Q smushed himself into the glass of the window, tiredly dozing on the way back to his flat.

 

It was almost jarring to get to his flat and have the door open before he could get to it, blinking in shock a few times as he found himself looking right at Bond, as if he had somehow _forgotten_ he had been on the phone with the man, before looking down at his beeping phone and pressing the end call button. He reached down and scooped Peanut into his arms when the little cat wandered out into the hallway so he could greet him. His eyes were blown -because of course, the toys next to the door were all catnip toys, because nothing else could convince the cats to distract from their interest when they got into the adolescent stage- and he was vibrating with those heavy purrs. Q pressed a kiss to his furry little head, between his triangle ears, and stepped into the apartment when Bond stepped aside for him, making a humming noise of greeting as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bags by the door while he kept Peanut cuddled close.

 

He’s had way too many late nights at work lately, he’s missed his cuddle and knit sessions with his favorite kittens.

 

Bond was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, something that almost surprised Q to see, before he realized he had been passed out on his couch a few hours before. Of course Bond wasn’t wearing a suit, he’s not gonna kip on someone’s couch wearing a suit.

 

Q was startled out of his thoughts when he felt Bond’s hands go around the cuddle buddy in his arms, gently taking the cat away from him.

 

“I think it’s time for you to be in bed.”

 

Q made the saddest little noise. “That’s my baby-”

 

“And he’ll be there when your in your pajamas and ready for bed, come on, let’s go.”

 

Q watched him put the cat back on the couch in the living room as they passed, letting the double-oh agent lead him through the flat to his bedroom. Okay. Yeah.

 

He thought about asking for privacy, but wasn’t awake enough to form many complete sentences, so he just started stripping out of the cardigan and dress slacks, leaving them in a growing pile on the floor with the rest of his outfit, and looking for something warm in the dresser. It was chilly out tonight, which is just how he likes it.

 

He pulled on a handmade sweater and pajama pants, immediately curling up on the bed with a sigh. His eyes closed before he even thought to pull up the blankets and turn off the light. He sighed, thinking that he’d do it in a minute, he just needed to rest his eyes for a moment first.

 

Something was moving him though, and he half heartedly swatted at it before he felt the blankets being pulled out from under him and over him instead. He just relaxed back into the mattress and pillows, too comfortable to complain anymore. God did he do that with magic? He must have, because he didn’t remember the cats being able to put a blanket on top of him before.

 

Sentient blankets maybe.

 

The room was plunged into a nice darkness, but he was already too far gone to see it.

 

***

 

Q woke up feeling like something had died in his mouth, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel the ravenous hunger he usually felt on the mornings when he didn’t remember going to bed. He must have eaten some time before he passed out.

 

Jasmine was sulkily sitting on the pillow next to his head, trying to look like she wasn’t silently pleading for his attention, but she easily scooted into his lap when he sat up and scooped her into his arms, kneading at his stomach through the soft sweater he wore. He relaxed back against the pillows for a moment, trying to take stock of the last few hours of his day yesterday that he couldn’t yet remember. He rolled his eyes when he remembered his texts to Bond, and gently set the cat on the bed so he could go for a shower and clean out his mouth.

 

He was coming out of his room with a glare to his phone when he smelled toast and eggs.

 

Wait, not only did Bond come crash on his couch, he _stayed_? Amazing. He’s adopted another one.

 

He was wearing another knit sweater -he made just about all his sweaters himself, and this one was his favorite, all soft cashmere and cables,- and sweat pants, because it was barely six in the morning and he isn’t leaving his flat today, according to the text he got from Moneypenny last night, saying he wasn’t coming in to work today.

 

Not asking him to take the day off, no, this text told him under no uncertain terms, he wasn’t coming in today.

 

“Oh, you’re awake.”

 

Q sat at the table in front of a carafe of something dark and hot looking, taking the mug left out next to it and filling it up. It was Irish breakfast tea, so dark you could see your own death in it.

 

He loved dark tea, it was perfect for pouring milk into to horrify everyone around him. By the time his mug was made up it was nearly white, because he was a terrible person and basically drank caffeinated milk.

 

“Barely. What time did I go to bed?”

 

“Nearly eleven.”

 

“Ugh, that’s barely seven hours of sleep.”

 

Bond turned from the stove with a plate loaded full of sausage and eggs -suspiciously sunny side up, the only way he would take them most of the time- and toast. Q wanted to tell him that he wasn’t hungry yet, but a strange layover from his teenage years where he would eat literally anything he could get his hands on, told him to shut up and accept food. Bond sat across from him with his own tea, looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for his approval over the meal.

 

A cat. Bond is a cat. It’s got to be the reason that Q hasn’t minded him being here. He’s good with cats. He’s had dozens of them over the course of his lifetime so far, he _loves_ cats. Bond is like a giant cat. He’s probably just attracted to his flat because of the handmade wool sweaters Q wore.

 

Seven hours is _not_ enough sleep.

 

He looked down with pink cheeks, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork to take a bite. “Thank you for breakfast.”

 

Bond seemed pleased, in that reserved way of his. He wasn’t like 006, who would give him a stupidly roguish smile and beam at the praise, Bond was the much more reserved of the two.

 

M and Tanner said it was because 007 likes making bigger explosions, so he saved his energy for the big finale. 006 will willfully blow up anything that he gets approval for, and several things he doesn’t. They are the strangest friendship Q has come across so far.

 

He leaned against his right hand as he ate with his left, slow and methodical, and not fast enough to give himself a stomach ache, because it was way too soon to eat fast. Actually no, it was _always_ too soon to eat fast. Made him want to be sick. He watched Jasmine and Peanut finish their own breakfast -Bond has already proven himself proficient in following instructions since their feeding schedule was taped to the fridge for the nights when he couldn’t come home to feed them himself, and that reason alone in enough to consider keeping him- and drained the milk tea from the mug.

 

“Are you hiding from someone?”

 

Bond considered that honestly. “Hmm, no? Well if I go into MI6 some medic will probably be dumb enough to bully me down to medical, but I’m not actively hiding from anyone.”

 

Q thought that over for a moment, before sitting up fully again. “Something wrong with your flat?”

 

Bond shook his head. “No.”

 

“So you just… wanted to come to mine?”

 

Bond looked at him like he was a few pieces short, head cocked to the side before giving him a cocky little smile. Q knew him well enough to know there was something sad about it, but he couldn’t figure out what. “Is that so hard to believe?”

 

Q… okay yeah it was hard to believe. Q doesn’t have many friends. Maybe Moneypenny, as long as she doesn’t think of him as a work-only friend, but he genuinely didn’t have many friends that he interacted with outside of his computer screen.

 

He went to a knitting group before he became the quartermaster… which was nearly a year ago…

 

But the double-ohs… they… he outfitted them for missions, he made them equipment, he wasn’t their _friend_ -

 

On the other hand, he spent two hours in medical last week while 0010 went through the stages of shock after a rough mission that had put her on leave for the next month and a half at least, just being a comfort for her. His slightly tipsy heart to heart with 003 while they tried to figure out if her girlfriend’s family was homophobic or not. The apple basket in his office…

 

Shit, he forgot to take that home with him.

 

“I… am I your friend?”

 

Bond watched him for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “Would you _like_ that? Because I already thought of us as friends, but if you don’t want-”

 

“I want!” Q cleared his throat, shaking his head a second before trying again. “Sorry, yes, I want that. I just… I don’t have many friends, I guess? I couldn’t imagine why you would be here.”

 

Bond gave him that sad look again, and Q wanted to throw a piece of toast at him, but, fondly? Just? Fondly, throw things at him? Till he stopped looking sad? “That’s okay. I don’t have many friends other than Alec, to be honest.”

 

Q wondered for a moment _why_ . Because of his job? James Bond was undoubtedly a _people person_ , Q just couldn’t imagine him _not_ having friends. He nodded once, finishing the plate of food and pouring another mug of tea while Jasmine jumped up into his lap, sniffing at his plate before gazing up at him sadly at the lack of leftovers. He kissed between her fluffy ears and she settled down to give him a proper snuggle. He loved his kitties _so_ much.

 

“Are you going to stay?”

 

Bond thought it over, though Q had the feeling he already had this answer prepared. “I don’t have anything to do right now with a messed up shoulder on leave.”

 

Q nodded, smiling. “You should stay.”

 

Bond seemed relieved, giving him a smile now, and Q wondered why the man didn’t have many other friends. Maybe he just didn’t talk to anyone outside of work often enough. It’s the reason Q is shut a shut in to be honest. “Alright. I’ll stay. Moneypenny said you have the day off today.”

 

Of course she did. For all Q knew, Bond was the one who told her to give him the day off.

 

Q did the washing up because he was awake enough now to not want Bond working with his shoulder all messed up like that, and they went back to Q’s bedroom, where he pulled out two extra blankets -big wool ones that were in the closet for emergencies with the heater- and made a nest out of it all, pulling his laptop between them for Netflix while he pulled out his most recent project.

 

It was a couch blanket he was planning to bring to work. His life didn’t have nearly enough blankets, and the Q Branch was numbingly cold to keep the computers from overheating. Bond watched him more than the show, and Q felt like he might actually enjoy a day off for the first time in a long while.

 

Jasmine and Peanut were just happy that he was home with them, and now they had another snuggle buddy too.

**Author's Note:**

> avengersnonsexualageplay.tumblr.com


End file.
